


Patriphilia

by Amber



Series: NSFW Curiouscat Requests [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Exhaustion, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Self-Esteem Issues, Size Kink, Trans Martin Blackwood, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 08:36:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21317275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber/pseuds/Amber
Summary: Anon requested: petermartin, daddy kink, it just kinda pops out of Martin's mouth but hey turns out they're both into it.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas
Series: NSFW Curiouscat Requests [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535822
Comments: 17
Kudos: 182





	Patriphilia

Peter hasn't had a family in years and years, Martin knows. Hasn't had anything except a crew he paid to keep around and barely saw, and a series of fleeting one-night stands. Martin isn't sure why he's the first exception, but it makes him feel wanted enough that it's worth it, even if when it starts he's not even sure if he even really _likes_ Peter all that much.

Well. Not as a person. Definitely not as a boss. But he's pretty good as a lover: can lift Martin like he weighs nothing, which always makes him feel strangely euphoric after years of fat kid anxiety. Never bitches the way some of Martin's past lovers have, that they're too gay to know how to make him come — Peter doesn't need Martin to guide his fingers and his tongue to his prick, never needs to be told to go harder, to bite it. He never plays with Martin's chest when he's taking him doggy and he never tries to put his dick in a hole Martin doesn't want it in. Though Martin kind of wants it in all his holes — it's stupidly fucking huge, enough that he's always gaping after, leaking cum and lube. And when he's full physicaly he feels full in other ways, the shivering impossibility of those inner muscles being held wide warming him with arousal and contentment.

"Hold me," Martin demands breathlessly in Peter's lap, swivelling his hips slowly to feel just how much he's taken inside him, and Peter does. His visible amusement at the request distances him a little, but maybe not quite enough, as Martin snuggles into the circle of his arms and breathes hot against the trapezius muscle of his shoulder.

When he started to find his way to the empty world, Peter found him there, fucked him over Jon's desk until Martin cried, and it was the best and worst sex he'd ever had. Their first time was a clawing, pounding thing, but now when Martin says gentler, gentler, Peter gentles, a trained bear. Not domestic, but safe enough for Martin to put a hand between its jaws.

"Bossy," Peter laughs when Martin demands to get dicked, but his life is more and more exhausting and stressful these days. Sometimes he doesn't want to think about the Extinction or Jon or Daisy or any of it. He wants to get fucked until he's come so much that every orgasm hurts, that his prick is rubbed raw and his insides bruised and his thighs aching from a workout but he's still riding Peter's cock. He wants to be used, suddenly and on Peter's whim, in the way Peter wants, for the time Peter wants, every decision taken from him except when Peter says, "Which hole are you taking my load in, then?" all genial. He wants to fuck enough that he can take one in all three, drooling come from his mouth and ass and cunt, messy with it. 

"Show me just how much you need me," Martin challenges him boldly, because Peter keeps saying that, that Martin's the only one, that his connection to the Lonely and the Eye make him perfect ("Perfect," whispered into his skin and Martin's stomach turns because he knows that's bullshit even if it feels so good to hear.)

Peter takes him back to the stupidly expensive hotel suite he lives in when he's not haunting the Institute, and kneels over Martin's face so he can see right up close how hard he gets Peter, stroking that huge dick and rubbing the thick, purpling head across Martin's mouth. He's talking, but Martin doesn't give a shit, tunes that out and looks up at him, glasses askew, at his pale skin and the violent splashes of tattoos, the threat of old muscle, of a man who can work even though he was raised in privilege. Takes in Peter's dick, so pale except for the very tip, his balls tight with the pleasure of his own hand, the unshaven silvering of hair, and how the fuck can any of this be for him? Peter is everything, he thinks absurdly, everything, but he leans up and encourages his mouth to sheathe that lovely cock before he can be stupid enough to say it.

But he can't have a dick in his mouth all the time. Peter throws him over the bed and pins him there with a hand breakingly heavy on his spine, rubs his cock between Martin's soft, hairy thighs, along his wet slit, over his asshole. Pushing his cheeks together to make a furrow for him to plough. 

"Is this what you want, Martin?" he asks lightly, squeezing one ass-cheek bruisingly tightly. Do you want my cock?"

"Yes," Martin chokes out, eyes closed, rubbing his face desperately on the comforter where it's already damp with his drool. "Yes, daddy, please."

He doesn't even think about it — he watches enough porn that it's just built into his dirty talk. Martin never knew his dad, and Peter definitely doesn't have any kids, but they both freeze for a moment.

"Fuck," murmurs Peter, and Martin is Lonely enough now that he can feel the ache in him like electricity arcing over his skin.

"Daddy," he whispers. "Daddy please. Give me that big daddy cock."

It should be ridiculous — even half out of his mind with lust he feels a bit ridiculous saying it — but the payoff is Peter making a startled, vulnerable noise, sheathing himself all at once inside Martin, and coming there hard with desperate little presses. It's a sudden shock of _full_ and then he's flooded, Peter grunting over him.

Then he's still and panting, and Martin laughs shakily, "Right. I _see_. 'Daddy' does it for you."

He swears he feels Peter's dick twitch-throb in him, like it isn't even going to go soft. Martin crawls forward off it, turns around so he can look at Peter with assessing, unkind eyes, leaning back on his elbow. "Unexpected, but I can work with it, yeah. Daddy," he says experimentally, feeling his own prick starting to swell. "Mmm, yes. You hurt me, you know, just suddenly splitting me open with your big daddy cock." He pouts. "I'm all sore _down there_, daddy."

He parts his legs, flexing so Peter can watch a bubble of his own spunk spill out of Martin's hole and drip in a viscuous pearly rope to the bed,

"Kiss it better," says Martin, and then Peter is on him like a storm.


End file.
